


Bring Your Cheer

by apanoplyofsong



Series: let your heart be light [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Christmas, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 13:57:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5293715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apanoplyofsong/pseuds/apanoplyofsong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke decides Bellamy could use some guidance to get in the Christmas spirit. Bellamy doesn’t disagree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring Your Cheer

**Author's Note:**

> Just some Christmas fluff I've looked at and tweaked too many times while waiting for the season. Title from "Welcome Christmas."

“Shit.”

When Octavia moved in with Lincoln at the same time that both Clarke’s roommate and her then-girlfriend left town, it seemed to only make sense for Bellamy and Clarke to become roommates. Overall, it's worked out pretty well, if one ignores Bellamy’s burgeoning crush on Clarke (which he does, regularly) or Clarke’s tendency to leave spoons scattered around the apartment when she’s distracted. Still, Bellamy has walked in on some unexpected things in the ten months since then—there was the incident where the entire kitchen was lined with trash bags covered in blue paint, the time Jasper was extracting a coke bottle from the freezer that exploded right as Bellamy opened the front door, and more nudity close calls as one of them dashed between bathroom and bedroom than he’s comfortable thinking about while in Clarke’s company.

Not that he thinks about that at all, of course.

So, it’s pretty anticlimactic that the curse has startled out of Clarke curled up on the couch alone in the living room, remote control white-knuckled in her hand and blonde curls piled on top of her head. She’s surrounded by pillows and has her favorite afghan pulled up to her chin, fuzzy socks with red and green stripes sticking out from the end, and the pattern of a snowflake knit sweater just visible on the one arm extracted from her den. Jim Carrey’s face takes up the entirety of the TV screen, painted green and paused mid-snarl.

“Clarke? What’s going on?”

He edges towards her, hands raised placatingly, because he clearly has no idea what’s happening here. She burrows her head further into the blanket, cheeks pinking and blue eyes so wide he can barely see her pupils.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice is muffled but earnest.

Bellamy perches on the arm chair next to her. “Wait, what? What are you sorry for? Is it because I found you watching Christmas movies on November 2nd? I mean, that’s pretty ridiculous, but you don’t actually have to apologize for it.”

“No, it’s because you found me watching Christmas movies, period!”

He blinks, and Clarke huffs.

“I know you’re not a fan of Christmas, okay?”

When he doesn’t say anything, she continues. “Octavia told me it brought back shitty memories of when you guys were little, and then your mom being sick around this time, and I know Octavia’s embraced it but I just…I didn’t want to throw any of that at you. I know how much it can suck.”

“Clarke…” He’s a little lost for words. Bellamy knows she actually does understand, recalls the way she flinched slightly every time an Independence Day commercial came on TV, faced reminders of the anniversary of her father’s death in every drugstore aisle lined with American flag pennants. She’s _concerned_ , and he tries not to smile at the thought.

He fails a little.

“Christmas was my dad’s favorite holiday,” Clarke says quietly, not meeting his eye. “It just makes me feel a little closer to him, a little closer to when things were good, to really do it up, I guess. But I really, really didn’t want to put that on you.”

“I don’t hate Christmas.”

Clarke raises her head and looks at him carefully.

“I don’t. I’m not just saying that so you won’t feel bad. I’m more…indifferent towards it, I guess. We could never afford to do much for it growing up—no decorations or anything, just something practical Christmas day—and then after my mom died I tried to do some of the festive shit for Octavia when I could, but I didn’t really have anything to draw on, you know?” He wets his lips. “So, I don’t hate it. It’s like I’m lacking the social knowledge for it. I haven’t even seen this movie all the way through!” Bellamy gestures towards where _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ is still paused before turning back to Clarke.

It’s quiet for a moment. Clarke’s eyes narrow slightly in the way that indicates she’s turning something over in her head and then she nods, decisive. Bellamy tries not to find it cute.

He fails more than a little.

"We can give you a festive education."

"A festive education?"

"Yeah, show you the Christmas ropes." She looks at him from the corner of her eye, a little soft. "You know, if you want. Maybe bring a little brightness to the season."

"A festive education."

Clarke nods again, and he smiles. 

"Yeah, alright. That could be fun."

Her answering grin is enough. 

 

* * *

 

On the first day of December, Clarke tugs on Bellamy’s arm until he gets tired of trying to read with the distraction and agrees to help retrieve the Christmas tree they apparently _need_ from the lot that’s popped up on their corner. He lugs the fir up the apartment stairs on his back with no actual help from Clarke—who’s practically skipping ahead of him, blonde braid shining as it bounces under her bobbled gray hat—and screws it into the tree stand waiting in the corner, repositioning boughs and turning it until Clarke declares the set-up acceptable.

His hands are sticky with sap, but, nestled into the corner by the balcony window, the tree does look strangely at home. It makes the space feel brighter in a way he hadn’t anticipated, in a way that Clarke seems to do naturally, and he ignores the tug in his stomach that tells him the tree isn’t the only thing that’s found home here.

“Was all that really necessary?” Bellamy huffs instead of dwelling on it. His worn high school cross country shirt is starting to stick to him from the exertion and he ruffles the spot where his hair is pasting itself to his neck.

“Of course it was!” Clarke yells back from the kitchen.

“I guess it does look pretty good.”

“It’s fucking perfect.” She hands him a mug of something tan and suspiciously thick looking, and he eyes it warily.

“What is this?”

“Eggnog. It’s my grandfather’s recipe. We’re going full-seasonal-education here, Blake.”

When he takes a sip and immediately grimaces, Clarke just laughs and tosses him the whiskey she was hiding behind her back.

By now, Clarke has been steadily moving Bellamy through her "Essential Classic Christmas Movies List," including three viewings of the Charlie Brown Christmas special (Clarke got teary eyed during two); _Home Alone_ and _Home Alone 2: Lost in New York_ , of which he had, at least, seen the first; and a rewatch of _The Grinch_ , compared back to back with the original cartoon. 

"It just gets better every time you watch it! Wait, have you seen _White Christmas_?"

"Is that the old one with all the singing?"

"You are a train wreck of a person. Come on, we're fixing this."

So Bellamy learns the history of _White Christmas_ (that Bing Crosby originally sang the song in another movie and was successful enough the studio decided to make another film for it), dutifully drinks his coffee with the thematic creamers Clarke buys in bulk, and eats an unhealthy amount of sugar cookies she's decorated with pretzels and M &Ms to look like reindeer.

They spend most nights together on the sofa, trading popcorn and casual touches. A few times, Clarke falls asleep curled against his side and Bellamy lets himself hold her, tells himself _just for now_.

Everything is slightly sweet with cinnamon and joy, Clarke most of all. 

 

* * *

 

One night, sleep-drunk with her head in his lap, Clarke tells him about all the things her father used to do for Christmas—the colored lights he would line the house with, the baked goods he’d bring home ritually from the same place across town, how he’d buy the smallest tree on the lot and use its branches to line the mantles and doorways of their house so it still had a purpose.

He listens, hand carding softly through her halo of hair, and offers up the meager memories he has in return—his mother sneaking home an extra snickerdoodle or two if they were brought in to wherever she was working that year, the way he’d sit next to Octavia after she was tucked into bed and tell her stories like "A Visit from St. Nicholas" and _A Christmas Carol_ that he tried his best to memorize in the school library during lunch.

She listens and rubs her thumb over his knuckles in return.

He thinks they’ve probably been circling around something for a while—since at least that time in March when they stumbled home too drunk to feel barriers and passed out tangled in each other, her mouth flush against his neck and his lips pressed to her hair—but on nights like this, easy and soft and too important to miss, it feels like enough just to be this person in her life.

When he comes home at the end of the week bearing cider and a box of pastries from her father's favorite bakery, Clarke makes a sharp noise before hurtling into his arms, and then suddenly she's kissing him. 

His entire body shuts down momentarily, frozen with his arms halfway around her and his face grasped in Clarke’s hands. By the time his brain fully registers what's going on (she’s kissing him; _Clarke_ is _kissing_ him), she's dropped back down onto the flats of her feet and is looking flushed and apologetic, mouth open slightly like she's trying to figure out what to say. 

Bellamy just gives in to the smile splitting his face and tugs her back in. 

Later, after _It's A Wonderful Life_ , Clarke laughs into his mouth as she's pulling him towards her room by his hips and he swears it's the best thing he's ever tasted.

 

* * *

 

On Christmas Eve, their hodgepodge group of friends is gathered in the apartment, sprawled out across the living room, tipsy with overly spiked cider and laughter. The TV is playing movies in the background and Jasper has planted strobe lights in the tree that blink obnoxiously in time to the audio. Bellamy's fighting with a box of batteries, trying to get them open for the robot monstrosity Monty and Raven showed up giggling over—he’s pretty sure it's going to be what kills him, once the batteries to the remote control are no longer dead—when he notices Octavia staring at him. 

"What?"

His sister's expression flits between baffled and entertained. "Bell, how many times have you seen this movie?" 

His eyes flit to the screen where _The Grinch_ is once again playing, all the Whos gathered around the town tree and welcoming the holiday. 

"I don't know, maybe 4? Why?" 

"You just sang all the words to 'Welcome Christmas,' including the weird made-up ones. Last year you didn't even know the movie had a dog in it." 

Bellamy ducks his head a little, feels his neck warm. 

"Well, I guess I don't mind some of this Christmas stuff after all." 

Octavia just raises an eyebrow, looks pointedly at where Clarke is laughing with Wells across the room, and grins at him. His sister shakes her head. "Textbook Grinch," she says, and kisses his cheek before strolling towards where Lincoln’s leaning against the bookshelf.

Clarke eventually comes and plants herself in his lap, easy and accustomed.

(It had turned out Clarke liked to punctuate her lesson plan with plenty of kissing. He never complained.)

“Are you sure you don’t mind hosting the festivities this year?” she asks, low and quiet so only he can hear.

Her arm settles around his neck, fingers winding softly through the curls growing over the tips of his ears, and he smiles.

“Yeah.” Bellamy wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her closer. “I really don’t mind it at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! This is definitely inspired by my own movie incompetence, but at least I've got some Christmas movies down.  
> I'm on tumblr [here](http://apanoplyofsong.tumblr.com/) or with fic-related things [here](http://apanoplyoffic.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
